I’LL TELL YOU WHAT SUCKS

Posted on June 11, 2013

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When you’re a child of crazy parents, you learn to live in your head from a very early age. It’s safe there. It’s also the place where you judge everything in the outside world, to make sense of it all and to make yourself feel okay. You learn to say “Okay, THAT’S f-d up, not me,” so you can distinguish between their crazy and your sanity.

So, it’s no surprise that I continue to live in my head and judge what I see. There’s a lot that sucks out there, of which I have things to say. Here are a few examples:

-When chicks leave the seat wet. Why the F is it so hard to just put some toilet paper down and/or wipe it after in consideration of the next patron? Why do people live like they’re the only one that matters? Is it okay to be disgusting as long as you leave the scene quickly?

-SUBWAY sucks. Their sandwiches are all bread with like 2 slices of meat. And their Bengali employees would much rather finish sending that text than take your sandwich order. I don’t mind a Bengali employee, in fact I speak some Bengali and like to practice my knowledge of the language. For example, I know how to say, “I am too famous to be here.” It always impresses. But, this is a real corporate establishment with its eye only on the bottom line. At least Blimpie’s sandwiches are bigger and tastier. When you eat a Subway sandwich, it’s like eating genetically modified bread with 2 slices of genetically modified meat.

-The girl with the cell phone in the gym sauna. I mean, really? The place where I think I’m going after a strenuous workout to breathe in some peace and quiet? And I have to be captive audience to your ‘important’ bullshit? In the sauna? Aren’t you afraid your cell phone is going to melt? Aren’t you self-conscious about me hearing everything you’re saying? Aren’t you afraid I’m going to get up in my cheap gym towel that could pass as an exfoliating cloth and smash your phone to the floor while roaring like a sweaty lion?

-My tax guy sucks. I had a difficult tax situation because I was on unemployment most of the year…Having been out of a job and living at home and all that. So, when a friend referred me to the Don Mecca of all tax guys who was sure to take care of me the best, I was happy. He took cash only. The last $225 I had in my account. Then, a month later when there’s no return…and the IRS has no record of my taxes – I realize the scatterbrained m—–f—– never hit ‘send’ on his computer. And he is MIA. His name is Usama, in case you see him.

-The guy who stood me up for dinner last night sucks. Why? Because I got my hair blown out and wore my sparkly eyeliner. And the only chance I got to show it off was on the subway ride home, hungry, drunk off the drinks I had to pay for myself, and judgmental of all the silly couples wearing cheap clothing.

Sometimes being judgmental is fun. Because it’s like your hosting a comedy show for yourself. I crack me up.

What’s interesting is that the reason I’ve become such a judgmental loner, (growing up with my crazy parents) has reversed on itself. I spoke to my mother today. I once resented her and wouldn’t listen to a thing she said. And today she made me feel okay. Like I was important and loved. And when she told me to hang in there, I believed her.

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Posted in: Humor, Life